A Rough Night at the MacFadden Household
by Marmie
Summary: Guthrie gets sick, but he tries to play it off like it's nothing to his brothers, and Hannah. Will the brothers realize how sick their youngest is on time, or will they only be left with six brothers? Read and Review!
1. A rough evening, a rougher night

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, or any of it's characters, or any of the actors and actresses affiliated with it, etc. If I did, I would have surely put it out on DVD by now!**_

**Author's note: This is my first fanfiction so I'd love any constructive criticism I could get! Sorry if the boys seem OOC-ish. I haven't really seen that many of the original episodes, but trust me, if I could, I would! I may want to write some more 7BB fics focusing on the other brothers, so if anyone has any ideas, just shoot me a message. Enjoy :)**

"How's that math coming along, buddy?"

The sudden sound of Adam's deep voice startled Guthrie out of his daydreams. He looked up at Adam, then down at his empty page of long division, then back up at his oldest brother, who was now frowning.

"C'mon Guthrie, do we really need to go over this again? I told you to finish as much as you could before supper, and I expected that you'd at least finish the first row." Guthrie just sighed at this and placed his aching head into his palms.

"But Adam, I don't feel so good," he moaned, jutting out his bottom lip for good measure. "I tried to, honest, but my head feels like there's a rodeo going on in it and my hands just feel so shaky." He held out his trembling right hand to demonstrate.

"Guthrie, I'm sorry, but I'm getting mighty sick of your excuses. I know you're not feeling great, but neither am I, but that doesn't mean I just get to stop doing my chores and running this household. What do you think would happen if tomorrow, and the next day, I just didn't get up to do any chores, and just left you boys to everything?" Guthrie shrugged and closed his eyes.

"Probably nothing good," he mumbled. He felt too sluggish to even tease Adam with a comment about how the house wouldn't even notice. Adam noticed Guthrie's lack of his usual wit, but he smiled anyways and ruffled the boy's hair.

"That's right, 'nothing good'. And nothing good is going to come out of you not doing your homework. Now come on, supper's on the table, and Hannah will be none too pleased if we let it get cold."

The MacFadden dinner table was the usual mix of yelling and laughing, and food being tossed around in every direction. So it was no surprise that the first and only one to notice Guthrie, who sat at his normal spot by the end of the table, as he stared down mournfully at his plate, never actually eating any of the peas or potatoes that Ford had put on his plate, was Hannah.

"What's wrong, honey? Now I know peas aren't your favourite, but I've never known you to leave a perfectly good plate of food just sitting there. Are you feeling sick?" He shrugged and twirled his fork between his peas.

"A little," he said softly, not taking his eyes of his plate. "My stomach hurts." Hannah frowned at him, and placed a gentle hand to his forehead. Her frown deepened as she pulled her hand away.

"You're feeling a little hot, kiddo. And you're looking mighty pale, do you want to lie down?" She placed a comforting hand on Guthrie's shoulder, but he shook his head.

"I'll be okay. It's probably just a cold." Hannah, unconvinced, looked as if she was going to protest, but thought better of it, and went back to her dinner, shooting Guthrie the occasional worried glance.

After dinner, Guthrie slowly did the dishes, and trudged through the rest of his chores. His weariness did not go unnoticed by his brothers, though. Crane offered to help with the drying of the dishes, and Adam didn't even say anything about his homework. By the time nine thirty rolled around, Guthrie felt tired enough to sleep right through the next decade, though he felt so ill he wasn't sure if he was going to be getting any sleep that night.

As Guthrie readied himself for bed, throwing the covers in any direction to make himself comfortable, though nothing seemed to quell his uneasiness, Brian walked in, pulling a tight white t-shirt over his torso for bed. He frowned as his smallest brother, whom he had shadowing all evening, with fears of the boy passing out or throwing up fresh on his mind, tossed and turned in bed.

"Hey, Guthrie, you feeling alright over there?" He had been expecting his brother to cover his illness up again, as he had been trying to do for most of the day, so he was surprised and worried when his question was responded by a muffle "no" from the other side of the bed.

He reached out across the sheets and put his hand against his brother's forehead, and feeling Guthrie had been unhappily accustomed to feeling that day. But this time he didn't even try to duck away from his hand, and that, along with Guthrie's burning fever made Brian more worried than ever.

"Geez, Guth, you're burning up! Sit tight while I go grab the thermometer." He didn't wait for a response, though given the state of his brother, he didn't really expect one.

He made his way to the bathroom as fast as he could in the dark, and began rummaging through the medicine cabinet. He mostly found bandages and other first aid gear, as the MacFadden boys were often getting banged up, but he was hard pressed to find the family's singular oral thermometer. It wasn't that they didn't get sick often, but just that they rarely got sick enough to warrant the knowledge of an exact temperature. Brian knew that this was one of those rare times, and was relieved to find the thermometer sitting underneath an empty bottle of pills.

He found his brother in the same state he left him in, though he felt that Guthrie looked even paler than five minutes before, if that was even possible. He stuck the glass tube into his brother's mouth and watched with worry as the mercury climbed at a rate far too rapid for his liking. The red liquid finally settled, and Brian was able to take a final reading of the tempertaure.

"Oh God, Guthrie, you've got a temperature sitting at 101.8 degrees. I'd better go get Adam." Brian stood up to fetch his only older brother, but Guthrie's pleading voice made him stop.

"No, don't get him. I'm okay, just a little tired. You don't need to worry him over nothing."

Brian tried to decide which tugged at his heartstrings more, his baby brother, sick with a fever of nearly 102 degrees, or that same brother pleading him with the biggest puppy dog eyes he'd ever seen before in his life. Eventually he made what he felt was an effective compromise, agreeing not to alert Adam, but also insisting that if Guthrie's fever hadn't gone down by the morning, then Adam and the rest would have to be informed.

Guthrie fell into a restless sleep almost instantly after Brian took the thermometer out of his mouth, and Brian watched uneasily as he tossed and turned, and as his face occasionally twitched in discomfort. Though at first Brian found it hard to sleep, with the nagging worry for his brother constantly in his mind, his day of hard work and chores finally caught up to him, and he fell into a light sleep, with his big arm slung over his brother's back.

At first when Brian woke up, he wasn't sure what had awakened him. He blinked his eyes, and scanned the room blearily; he knew it was sometime in the middle of the night, and judging by how tired he still felt, he figured they hadn't been asleep for very long. Once he had gained some sense of his surroundings, he realized how hot his right arm felt, which is what he figured woke him up.

He rolled over onto his side to face his brother, who was sleeping fitfully next to him. He reached over and shook him softly.

"Hey Guthrie, you okay?" He was greeted by silence. Brian tried to stamp down the worry that was rising in his chest as he shook his brother once more, this time harder, less gently. "Guthrie! Guthrie, c'mon buddy, you've gotta wake up!"

He sat up quickly and made his way to his brother, no longer trying to stop the fear that made him nearly sick to his stomach. He roughly placed his hand on Guthrie's head, but quickly recoiled when he felt how hot is was, with the sickening realization that his brother's fever had gotten significantly worse over the past few hours. He hastily checked his pulse, and even to Brian, who really knew nothing of what a pulse should feel like, could feel how erratic it was, and in the silence of the night, he could distinctly hear the ragged breaths of the sick boy.

"ADAM!" Brian was yelling by now, but he didn't really care; he was too close to freaking out to be able to quiet down, and he wanted everyone in the house up anyways.

"Adam, come quick, Guthrie's real sick!" When Adam didn't come out immediately, Brian jumped out of bed and bounded up the stairs, three at a time. If his yelling didn't wake up the whole house, his running around and banging on the doors was certainly going to.

Brian was still banging on Adam's door as Adam unlocked it and opened it, nearly getting knocked in the face in the process. He looked tired, but still totally aware and a little freaked out. Hannah was right behind him.

"God, Brian, what is it? What's wrong?" Adam sounded confused and annoyed, but there was also an obvious touch of worry and fear in his question as well. Brian ran a hand through his hair nervously, as he tried to explain the situation to Adam and Hannah, as well as to his remaining four brothers, who had heard the noise and too gathered anxiously around Brian for news.

Adam was the first to realize what Brian was trying to convey through his eager ramblings, and without another thought, ran down the stairs to the only brother who wasn't awake. The rest of them quickly followed suit, and by the time they reached the living room, Adam was kneeling on the bed with his youngest brother cradled in his lap, trying to get a reading off of the thermometer in the dark.

Crane quickly realized Adam's struggle and leaped over the armchair and flicked on the light switch. As Adam finally got a proper reading, his heart dropped way down to his feet, and he felt as is it might leak right through his slippers. He looked up at his brothers solemnly and purposefully, and there was a sense of urgency in his voice when he spoke.

"Crane, bring the truck around, now! He's got a fever of 103.7 degrees, boys. I can't take the chance of some country doctor coming around here; we're taking him to the hospital."

**I dunno, should I continue? Review and tell me what you think :) Anything would be just lovely!**


	2. The Waiting

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, or any of it's characters, or any of the actors and actresses affiliated with it. If I did, I would have surely put it out on DVD by now!**_

**Author's note: Sorry if the boys seem OOC-ish. I haven't really seen that many of the original episodes, but trust me, if I could, I would! I may want to write some more 7BB fics focusing on the other brothers, so if anyone has any ideas, just shoot me a message. Enjoy :)**

The first thing Brian MacFadden did as he caught a last glimpse of his youngest brother before the child's gurney was wheeled past a threshold of swinging doors he could not pass, was to punch the off-white hospital walls. Hard. Then, with almost all of his pent up anger and energy leaving his body as his fist connected with the wall, he slumped down in a hard, oddly shaped hospital chair, left only with his guilt and worry.

Adam noticed this too, but decided to let his younger brother cool off before talking to him; he had witnessed first hand how shaken up the normally unfazed Brian was, and he could only imagine what kind of thoughts were going through his brain as he waited silently.

Adam couldn't say he was surprised with Brian's reaction, either; as he scanned the waiting room, which was mostly taken up by MacFaddens, he could he how upset each of his brothers really was.

Daniel and Hannah were each in their own way trying to console Ford, who was feeling overwhelmingly guilty and ashamed that he had let his only younger brother down. Crane and Evan sat in the very corner, mentally berating themselves, and cursing softly about how they could have missed something so major in their own brother. And at this point, Adam wasn't really sure what he all felt, except worry over his baby brother.

After watching Brian suffer alone for a few more minutes, Adam finally decided he couldn't watch his brother suffer like that anymore, and slowly shuffled over to talk with him. As he put his hand onto Brian's slumped shoulder, he heard his brother mumble something into his hands, which were cupped over his face.

"What's that, buddy?" Adam's voice was gentle and caring, almost as if Brian was the one who was ill.

Brian looked up miserably, and repeated his initially muffled words. "It's my fault," he paused for a moment, running his palm over his face again. "He's in here because of me."

Adam was heartbroken and slightly horrified that his brother had these thoughts, though he wasn't entirely surprised. He had seen that look etched upon Brian's features before, watched his brother act this way before, and he knew the only time that happened was when he had done something wrong, and felt terrible for it. Adam just wished that he would soon realize that he was not in any way responsible, because he could see how much it was tearing him up inside.

"Come on, Brian. You couldn't have known. If anything, I'm more responsible than you; you were working all day, you barely even saw him. I mean, I was with him all day, and I still couldn't help him." Adam's grip on his brother tightened as he shook his head softly, seeming even more upset with Adam's attempts to console him.

"No, I mean I knew he was sick and I didn't tell nobody!" Adam frowned at this, but he could he how agitated his brother was becoming, so he let him continue.

I-I took his temperature before he went to bed... it was 101 degrees, and I wanted to go get you, but Guthrie begged me not to, said he just wanted to sleep. I felt bad for the kid, and I thought he'd be okay, at least until morning, but... but when I checked on him later, he was so hot... so still. When I came down and saw you holding him, he looked so little, so helpless, and I just thought... I just know that if he dies tonight, or tomorrow, it's going to be all my fault!"

As he finished his emotional outburst, Brian took a deep shuddering breath and once again buried his face in his arms. But this time Adam could feel the constant sobs racking his brother, as he struggled to comfort him.

"Shh, Brian, it's okay. You did everything you could. Nobody blames you." At that Brian raised his head slightly, and ceased his soft crying.

"I killed him; I killed my baby brother." It was so simple, yet it tore through Adam's heart like a knife.

"No," he stated, a little too harshly. He softened his voice as a startled Brian looked up to face him. He also noticed the rest of his brothers, along with Hannah had turned to look at the sound of his stern voice. Now when he spoke, he spoke not just to Brian, but to his entire family.

"Listen, he is not going to die. Yes he is sick, but he's a little boy, and boy's get sick all the time. I think if anybody knows that, this family does." Beside him, a tearful Ford spoke up for the first time.

"But none of this have ever been this sick before. I mean, the only time I've even been to the hospital before was when..." Ford left the sentence hanging in the air, but almost everyone in the room had already felt the devastating impact of its implications.

Adam sighed. He had been hoping that nobody would make the connection between the death of both their parents nearly a decade previously, and the situation they were in with Guthrie. He moved over to Ford and gently placed his hand on his shoulder in an authoritative, yet brotherly sort of way.

"Talking like that is going to do Guthrie no good, you hear me?" When he said it he looked around at everyone, to show that he was not just addressing Ford. "Now, when we see him, he is going to need us all to be strong for him. Even if we don't feel strong, we'll act like we do, because he's our baby brother, and he needs us, not some empty shell of ourselves. Got it?"

Adam said it in a way that both snapped everyone out of their depressions and thoughts, and left no room for questions or objections. Everyone in the room nodded softly, including the couple sitting in the corner, who had no connection to the rowdy brothers, but couldn't help being drawn in by Adam's passionate speech.

After that, the waiting room was once again silent, though the tension was no loner almost tangible, and Adam was glad to see at least a sliver of hope in each of his brothers' eyes. Despite the situation Adam smiled ever so slightly, pleased that he'd been able to get through to his brothers so effectively.

He looked up at the clock, and was slightly surprised to find that it had only been a half hour since he'd seen his youngest brother; to him, it had felt like hours and he could only hope they would receive news soon, preferably good.

That smile was soon wiped off his face as the same doctor who had initially gone through the big swinging doors with Guthrie reappeared, with a clipboard in his hand and a tired look on his face. All seven of the MacFaddens in the waiting room were on their feet in an instant at the doctor's words.

"Is there any family here for Guthrie MacFadden?"

**Okay, so sorry about leaving it there! I know it's a super cliched cliffhanger for a hospital fic, and I really didn't plan that, but I just haven't got anymore ideas :( I just wanted to get something up at least. So, you know the drill, read and review! Constructive criticism very welcome; I know I need to improve, and I'm eager to do so :D**


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